Sarah's Song
by DeniedBlue
Summary: Sometimes, you don't need to say anything.


"Come on, Red. We're nearly there."

She looked up at him through her blazing hair with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and he couldn't help but laugh. Boxer had been repeating the same words for a while now, as they climbed Overview Ridge, just outside of town. That was a tradition they both enjoyed. Whenever anything got too difficult or bothersome, he would say those six little words and she'd smile. That's how they both knew everything would be alright.

He extended an open hand to her, anticipating what would come with some excitement. Every touch of hers was like a spark. Electricity flowed through his arm and pulsed directly into his heart, and it would be ever fast, ever harder, filled more and more with passion for her, and for who she was. For who _they_ were.

Even as Red's delicately long, pale fingers wrapped around his massive, sun weathered hand and he pulled her up, Boxer felt it again. The unrivalled and unrestrained joy of being able to warm her hands in his during the cold nights and cooling them after another sold-out concert. It was a luxury he would never willingly give up; to be able to feel her, hold her to his chest and comb her unruly hair back from her face, only to catch a glimpse of those deep, large eyes, right before she shied away, burying her face in his arm, her cheeks matching the color of her hair and doing her name justice.

A few more steps and they arrived.

The view was breathtaking. The sky had taken an azure hue that contrasted with the golden-peaked buildings and rouge lights that dotted Cloudbank. Vehicles left diaphanous white trails that lingered in the humid summer air and melted onto the wet roads. Bright streaks flowed through the asphalt ridges, making sharp turn through each harsh, perfect 90-degree angles. Sometimes, they would converge, only to spread out once again, but they never stopped. The clockwork precision of the construction likened it to a titanic silicon chip, where information was rapidly passed from one point to the other, making the city grow and flourish.

The large, heavy-set man could hear the singer panting softly. The way up was always harsh, yet she never complained, and he admired her for it. Not a single droplet of sweat marred her immaculate beauty. Even the grass and flowers appeared to cling to her, to pulsate softly with each breath she took and change color to accommodate her mood. There was a magnetism to Red, something neither Boxer nor anyone else could explain, and it went beyond her physical appearance or her impossible voice. She was a digital Venus in a world where men had struggled for godhood, and she did it effortlessly.

"Allow me."

His coat was off and spread on the grass, providing them with an impromptu sitting arrangement. The singer flashed him another one of her secret smiles and responded to his slight bow by picking up her long skirt – a present Maximilias Darzi had insisted she accept, _darling_ – between her slender, impeccably manicured fingers and laying gracefully on the fabric. She barely took up any room, whereas the man, when he finally sat down, occupied the rest of the spread garment.

There was a moment while he tried to sum up the courage. "Listen, Red, I…"

The bouncer wanted to apologize. He felt that he needed to apologize, for something and for everything. He knew he had done something wrong, even if he couldn't quite remember what it was. Every time that he had tried to say he was sorry, Red would frustrate his attempts, usually by placing a finger on his lips and smiling. It happened during the cold nights, when he wrapped her in his coat and in his arms. It happened before a show and after it. It had happened last night, as, instead of sleeping, they spent the dark hours staring at each other, heads propped against their hands, in a battle of light touches and gentle caresses. As the intruding honey-colored sun shone through the blinds, he summoned the courage to try again. And again, her finger was on his lips, while a smile was on hers. Before he could complain, she was up and out. The bed sheets still held her warmth, the pillow still carried her intoxicating scent. To fill up the empty space, there was her humming, embracing him.

So it was at that moment. Red's cheek was on Boxer's shoulder, her long legs bent to the side. As if on cue, all the sounds in the world were drowned in a black hole of silence and her voice became the soundtrack of reality. Even the sky melted to a warmer tint, matching her soothing melody. It was always a revelation for him, how everything around them bent to her will, changed itself, lodged her wishes and gave them form. Boxer felt like a child, perpetually in awe of these mutations. Grinning despite himself, he looked down at her.

"You're never going to let me say it, are you?"

The singer's blue irises focused on him. She was smiling. With a crumpled nose and without breaking the tune, she shook her head and looked back towards the city.

Then, he put his arm around her and held her close to him.

And neither of them needed to say anything.


End file.
